


No Light, Late Night

by greenJeanKirstein



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Holding Hands, Kissing, M/M, No Dialogue, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:02:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6440542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenJeanKirstein/pseuds/greenJeanKirstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronan and Kavinsky share a tranquil night. For that one night, everything is alright and they're enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Light, Late Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fox-meets-wolf (bluebear)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebear/gifts).



It was too late and dark in the room for them to properly see each other. The lights had been turned off or had been shot dead, the weather was too cloudy to let the moon shine through, and the two boys in the room cared too little to get out something to illuminate the surroundings. The silence filled the room, only occasionally being broken by the sound of someone inhaling and exhaling. The smoke curled in the air, the grey of it hardly there, but it was enough, at least for them.

 

Ronan reached for Kavinsky's hand at the same time Kavinsky reached for his. Their fingers gently brushed against each other, tentative as if searching for something, as if afraid that something would burn them - or worse - disappear under their skin. Kavinsky's hands were too cold and Ronan's hands were too warm, and when they touched, it felt like they belonged together; they belonged into room where it was too dark, too silent and the temperatures too varying.

 

The smoke left Kavinsky's mouth in a billow, curling around, kissing the tip of Kavinsky's nose and seeping through the strands of hair that covered his face, disappearing into nothing then. Kavinsky's eyes were open and he watched the smoke, watched it being born, watched it dance around in the air and then dying in the air. Ronan watched the smoke as well, watched it caress Kavinsky's lips, watched it brush his pale skin as tenderly as a butterfly would and watched it swirl up in the air where it found its end.

 

He ran his fingers up Kavinsky's arm, the touch barely there, so electrifying, yet not enough all at once. His warm hand rested on Kavinsky's cold neck and he tucked a few strands of hair behind Kavinsky's ear, letting the smoke the boy blew out from his mouth stay in the air for a bit longer. Kavinsky merely turned his head to the side, his face emotionless as he blew another billow of smoke into Ronan's face.

 

The warm hand on Kavinsky's neck felt good; and Kavinsky's cold skin cooled Ronan's sweaty palms. The smoke in Ronan's face smelled disgusting; it smelled good; it smelled bitter; it smelled sweet, of life and death, and of Kavinsky, and Ronan closed his eyes, letting Kavinsky pollute the air in his nostrils with the burnt scent of his own breath. He inhaled the smoke and it felt as intimate as if they had been sharing their last breaths.

 

When the burnt smell disappeared, Ronan opened his eyes. He could make out Kavinsky's outline and could feel the bed dip as Kavinsky reached for another cigarette. Kavinsky lit it, and for a moment, Ronan could see his gaunt face, his refugee eyes and the mouth he had dreamt of so many times they all blended into one. Then they were in the darkness again and Kavinsky lay back down.

 

Kavinsky closed his eyes and sucked on the filter of the cigarette. It hurt his lungs and it made him feel alive as it killed more of him. For a second he wished the cigarette would burn him, that it would drop from his hand and light the bed on fire, that him and Ronan would go out in flames, that they would disappear into the smoke.

 

Then there were warm fingers on his cheek and on his eyelids. Ronan's touch was gentle, stroking his skin, warming it. Ronan was being tender, careful even, taking his time feeling Kavinsky's face and his neck and Kavinsky breathed out the smoke into Ronan's awaiting palm. The smoke slithered through his fingers and suddenly there were no fingers to slither through. Instead there was a mouth on Kavinsky's mouth and lips against his and the smoke Kavinsky exhaled ran into the air through Ronan's nose.

 

They kissed, lips gliding over one another, Ronan's hand still on Kavinsky's cheek and Kavinsky's hand holding the slowly burning cigarette. The lit end of it gave off enough light to further the contrast of the pair; of Kavinsky's hollow eyes and Ronan's swollen ones; of Ronan's sharp lines and Kavinsky's barely there ones. A gasp escaped, smothering the flame and they were in the dark again, in nothingness, but still there.

 

Kavinsky kissed as if he was burning, as if Ronan could steal away the oxygen the fire needed. Ronan kissed like he was drowning and Kavinsky had all the air he needed. For a few kisses it was enough, _they_ were enough, they were alive and they were more than a pipe dream. Ronan's eyes were closed, but only for him to feel everything, the crips lips, the scorched breaths, the flame inside of Kavinsky.

 

When they lay next to each other a few minutes later, it was like nothing had happened. Kavinsky's cigarette, relit, emitted pillars and pillars of smoke. Ronan watched the smoke kiss Kavinsky's lips, watched it weave inricate patterns over Kavinsky's face and watched it sufflocate itself against the ceiling. Their hands were only just touching, two fingers entwined to make sure that if the dreams swallowed them, they would take both, not only one of the dreamers.

 

Soon it was too dark to even see the smoke. Ronan could still smell it in the air and on Kavinsky. The smell both aggravated and comforted him just like Kavinsky always had. Slowly, his eyes closed and his breath evened. He inhaled with Kavinsky and exhaled when he did. The hands, that touched, warmed and cooled at the same time. The warmth spread from Ronan's fingers to Kavinsky's body and Kavinsky's eyes closed as he found solace.

 

The night swallowed them wholly.

**Author's Note:**

> I totally blame [f0x-meets-w0lf](f0x-meets-w0lf.tumblr.com) for sending me 1ST VOWS' song 'Sweeter Bitter'
> 
> You can find me [riiight here](http://www.vicvandal.tumblr.com)


End file.
